Page 104 of The Build-a-Boyfriend Project

Yet the more Eli grows to understand where Peter came from, the more he can appreciate it.

Maybe the article will go live. And maybe it’ll attract the hundreds of thousands of readers that Michael promised Eli. And maybe he’ll get that staff writer position, and maybe he’ll have reliable income. And maybe he’ll be able to work his way up, build a portfolio. And maybe in a year, he can create a decent enough portfolio to move on from Vent, find a place for himself at a different publication. One where he can write about the things he’s passionate about, the things that matter to him.

It’s such a funny feeling, isn’t it? Weeks ago, Eli rejected the simple idea of getting close to another person. Because he didn’t think it was worth it anymore.

Now, without permission, Peter has found his way in, made a home in Eli’s heart, trailing gasoline as he stepped inside.

If only he hadn’t fallen in love with the match.

The soft smile, and the feeling of Peter’s firm hand in his own, and the sound of Peter’s laugh. How he gets lost in the music he listens to, and how he doesn’t always get sarcasm. His dedication to what he does, even if he doesn’t love it. The way he hides the most precious parts of himself, and how he dared to show them to Eli.

Eli buries his face in his arms, breathing slowly. He’s not in love with Peter Park. He can’t be.

But when he stands outside of himself, he knows the truth.

It’s another two hours before his parents come home, both of them clearly just a touch tipsy as Rue wraps Eli in a tight hug.

“How was Les?” John asks.

“Usual; we worked on their homework. They practiced, went to sleep about twenty minutes ago.”

“Thank you so much for doing this so last minute, honey,” Rue says as she immediately goes to take her earrings out. “I owe you big time.”

“It’s okay, not like I was doing much else.”

“Well, you and Peter could’ve had a nice night out.” Rue gives Eli a sympathetic look.

“Right . . .” He averts his gaze from both of them, listening as John reaches into a cabinet to get a bottle of whiskey and three glasses out.

“You want a drink, Eli?” John offers.

“Oh, I’m good. Thanks, though.”

“Come on! It’s Weller, double barreled.” John sets the glasses down, clearly not taking no for an answer.

“Speaking of Peter . . .” Rue pulls her hair free of the bun she’d walked out of the house in. “When am I meeting this boy?”

Eli swallows. “He’s pretty busy.”

“Oh, come on, how about this weekend? We’re heading into the city, Les wants to go ice-skating!”

“I’ve got plans,” Eli says.

“Cancel them,” Rue sings, waving Eli off. “I want to meet him!”

“I just don’t think it’s such a good idea.” Eli takes the whiskey, sipping on it slowly as he’s directed by John. It’s a good whiskey, he’ll give John that, but he can’t appreciate the full flavor, not with the sour taste that already lingers on his tongue.

“Why? Did something happen?” she asks.

“No, it’s just that . . .” Eli lets his words drift off into the ether. “It’s nothing. I just don’t want to go.”

The moment hangs, empty, before Rue turns to John. “Honey, can you give us a moment?”

“Yeah!” John says, like he’s come to some large epiphany. “Of course. I’ll go shower. Have a good night, Eli. And thank you again!”

“Of course,” Eli says slowly. His eyes follow John as he exits the large kitchen, but Rue’s gaze stays focused on her son’s face.

“Mom . . .”